


Sweetly,

by wajjs



Series: Across The Universe (vld fics) [14]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Kidnapping, Langst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Shady Cops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-10 01:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12288072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wajjs/pseuds/wajjs
Summary: Where do the missing people go?When does a missing person come back?





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was previously posted on [tumblr](https://wajjs.tumblr.com/tagged/kidnapped-lance-au)! It got more attention than expected, so I decided to post it here too. The next installments for this story will be shared here from now on!
> 
> This story will probably get quite dark as I continue writing. I say probably because even though I have the entire plot thought out, I haven't gotten around to writing most of it, as I started writing this trying to get rid of stress LOL  
> Thank you Mizu for being amazing and for going crazy over this idea with me, sharing this with you definitely helped me a lot! I love you!!!

 

 

**1**

 

 

   An hour ago.  Lance had left Shiro’s room an hour ago to go fetch the snacks he forgot back at his own room.

   Everybody else was there already, the games were on, Hunk was winning as usual, Keith was trying to defeat him at least once.

   The walk from Shiro’s dorm to Lance’s wasn’t a long one.  Hell, if one were to give slow, tiny steps, it would only take fifteen minutes top.  Not more.  The buildings were pretty close to each other, after all.

 

   The minutes tick by slowly.  It’s driving him mad.

   “I’m going out,” Shiro says and both Hunk and Keith turn to look at him, “go check if Lance needs help or something.”

   “We can come with you,” Keith offers, but Shiro is fast to shake his head.

   “No, it’s alright.  You guys keep playing,” and with that he steps out of the room, closing the door behind his back.

 

   An hour ago.  Lance had left an hour ago.

   Shiro walks to the main door feeling like something’s wrong.  It’s a vague sensation at the back of his mind, on the center of his stomach.  He hurries his steps — he’s being silly, he knows, nothing’s wrong, Lance probably got caught up talking to his roommate or—

 

   He stops.

   The light coming from the building illuminates pretty well the space in front of him.

 

   There, lying on the grass, is Lance’s phone.

 

°


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you want?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting now the second drabble I've shared on tumblr first just in case I forget LOL
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this! The continuation might take me a while, depending, also, if there's still interest for this story—

 

 

**2**

 

 

   The news has reached national status but aside from the phone found on the grass, little clues have come up.  Keith’s convinced there’s something they are failing to see — there’s  _ something  _ the police’s hiding, pivotal information that’s not being shared to them. 

   He doesn’t care one bit about the media coverage the case’s getting now,  _ a promising young student disappearing from campus late at night, sources say this, sources say that _ .  The only thing he cares about the time slots Lance’s disappearance has now on TV is that, potentially, it could help them gain more information as to what happened, maybe some lucky person somewhere somehow finding Lance and realizing that  _ hey, he’s the missing boy from the news! I gotta call the police! _

   Keith glares at his textbook for one minute longer before deciding that he’s spent enough time of the day pretending that he was actively trying to study.  How can he just sit and read and memorize when his friend is out there somewhere at the mercy of a fucker that—  His hands closed into fists and he stands up abruptly, chair screeching against the floor before toppling over.  What he’s about to do will make Shiro worry, he knows.  Ever since that damned night Shiro obviously feels and acts like he’s at fault, like the guilt is somehow his, and he doesn’t react well when either him, Pidge or Hunk don’t answer his texts and calls immediately.  Especially not when Shiro knows they are out and about.

   Everything is such a mess.  Keith feels like his head is going to implode if he stays just one more second in his room.  Putting on his jacket, grabbing his phone, wallet and dorm keys, he basically runs out of the building, needing air, needing to do something that isn’t just… sitting around and waiting.

 

   The short trip to town is uneventful.  There’s hardly anywhere he can go where Lance’s picture won’t haunt him, chase him, printed blue eyes staring through him.  The entire town has been put upside-down and shaken in all ways, yet still there are no signs of his friend.  It shouldn’t be like this.  People don’t vanish into thin air.  Nobody just—disappears.

   Something is going on, Keith knows.  The cops have found possible suspects but after a few hours they were all free to go.  But a feeling deep in his gut, coiling tight and merciless, makes him doubt the validity of the procedures.  It feels like someone’s hiding something, it reeks of lies and negligence.  Of people that don’t want them to see, people that forcefully are turning off all the lights so that they can hide everything in the shadows.

   He stops walking after a while.  He’s in a small park, he doesn’t quite remember getting there, but still he decides not to ponder on it too much.  Keith’s just sitting down on an empty bench when a tall, middle-aged man approaches him.

   “Excuse me,” the stranger says, his accent thick though somehow warm, “you were in the news recently, if I’m not mistaken.  You’re a close friend of—”

   “I am, so what?,” Keith’s reply is so vicious it sounds almost like a bark.  “What do you want?”

   His tone doesn’t deter the strange man, though.  “My niece—she was all the family I had left,” wind picks up at that moment, the rustle of leaves filling the air around them, “but… three years ago, she disappeared just like your friend did.  Her roommate found her phone thrown in the grass just outside their dorms…”

   Keith’s heartbeat picks up as he listen to the words the stranger is saying.  This is something new, this information—  “And what happened?,” the way he speaks is so different now, but he can’t waste precious seconds trying to gather his masks, “Did you—did you find her?  Was at the same college or—?”

 

   There’s a small and sad smile resting now on the man’s face, partially hidden by a moustache.

   “It was on your same college,” he says easily, but his expression turns pained and his voice breaks when he continues talking, “she… I could never find her.  It’s like… like she disappeared into the air…,” he lifts his eyes then, staring firmly at Keith, and closes his hands into fists at his sides, like he’s gathering the strength to go on.  “One of the last things she said before disappearing… I remember it clearly, she called me the Wednesday before she went missing, right after class—for some reason, when she came back to her room, she found the window wide open…”

   “That’s—,” Keith has to clear his throat once, fingers twitching a bit, “how is that related to her--her disappearance?”

   “Well… one could easily say she had simply forgotten to close it before leaving if it had been a one time occurrence, or that it had been her roommate.  But it happened not once—but four times.  In quick succession.  Both her and her roommate always checked that their window was closed before they left the room…”

 

   He doesn’t want to.

   He doesn’t want to ask.

   But he has to.  Because he has to know.

   “Why… why are you telling me this?”

   “Just—tell me.  Did your friend ever mention the same thing happening to him?  Right before—before he disappeared?”

 

°

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at/with me on [tumblr](http://wajjs.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/otabaek) :-D


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back by unpopular demand! :-D 
> 
> This chapter definitely didn't go the places I wanted it to go, but well, it's written and I'm too lazy to change it, so I'm posting it anyway LOL

 

 

**3**

 

 

   _It’s your fault._

_It’s your fault._

 

   “Shiro,” Lance cries out and looks at him with terrified blue eyes, “Shiro, _what are you doing?!_ Shiro!”

 

   _This is your fault._

 

   Shiro wants to close his eyes, but he doesn’t.  He needs to make sure Lance is effectively gagged.  Then he picks him up with ease, maybe too much ease, and starts walking towards the line of trees.

   Lance is crying.

 

   “This is for your own good, Lance,” he says with a bright smile on his face, “I’m only doing this for your own g—

   With a start he sits up on the bed, eyes open wide and pupils blown, completely taking over the irises.  He’s gasping for air and his hair is glued to his forehead with cold sweat—he’s covered in sweat, the sheets are clinging to his hands and his shirt is uncomfortably pressed to his chest.  He looks all around the room in an unhealthy mixture of paranoia and trepidation.  The window is safely closed and the curtains are closed, though still a sheer strand of light filters through them.  It’s morning already.

   His eyes fall next on the sleeping form of his roommate.  Despite his state of agitation, he didn’t make enough noise in his dreams to wake up the other male.  Shiro doesn’t know if he would’ve liked to be woken up before… whatever thing his brain had come up with had the chance to assault his unconscious mind.

   There’s a tight feeling in his chest, squeezing his lungs.  He thinks he might have let out a broken wheeze as the image of Lance’s pleading eyes refuses to abandon his thoughts.  It makes him feel dirty.  Like a failure.  Like he could’ve done better, like everything is actually his fault.  He could’ve gone with Lance, should’ve listened when Lance commented on… on…

   His alarm clock starts beeping and he doesn’t feel remorse when he throws it against the wall.  He doesn’t really acknowledge the startled yelp of his roommate from across the room.

   Lance is out there, somewhere, and every day that passes without further clues Shiro feels like he’s proving what a rotten failure he is.  And it tears him apart—it’s destroying him.  And all the things he had stupidly waited too long to say, all those words he had rehearsed in his own head so many times…  It’s his very own fault that everything is going to waste.

 

 

   Shiro’s numb as he pushes through his morning classes.  Professors spare more seconds than usual on his form, he can feel their eyes on him, though he refuses to look at them and see the worry, the pity, in their eyes.  Compassion won’t bring Lance back.  His face remains with the same closed expression even as the tip of his pencil snaps when he presses down on the sheet of paper too hard.

   He should have grown used to the nightmares by now.  He hasn’t been able to sleep peacefully ever since that night when everything went to hell.  His hands seem useless as he looks down at his open palms, and his thoughts are both vivid and traitorous enough to conjure the image of long bronze fingers tracing the lines there.

   The memories are easy to bring back, of an autumn late afternoon spent together in the library, open books around them and papers in disarray.  Lance’s index finger on his left hand had blue inked smudged over the side; he insisted on using his broken fountain pen because he liked the stroke it had and how neat it made his handwriting look.  Shiro’s own hands weren’t immaculate clean either, he had a purple highlighter streak over his thumb and a black ink smudge on the fingertip.

   Shiro had gotten distracted watching Lance doodle absentmindedly, recognizing the forms of Neptune and Saturn amongst a field of messy stars and comets—there were several eyes on the margins of his notes, all looking to the side, though the shapes were different.  Then Lance had looked up and their gazes collided with each other.

 

   “Found something interesting?,” Lance mock-whispered, leaning closer.  Shiro didn’t pull away though, instead offered a smile of his own.

   “Are those my eyes?,” he asked, pointing at the upper corner of the sheet with his pen.

   “Maybe,” Lance grinned then, resting back into his seat and looking out of the window for a moment.  

   When his eyes found Shiro again, this time they fell on his hands.  Silence stretched around them lazily.  It felt like time ticked by slower than usual, and his darker eyes refused to stray from the other’s face for even a second.

   “You know,” Lance commented idly, reaching out with his right hand for Shiro’s left one, “your hands are bigger than I thought.”

   “Really?”

   “Yup,” he popped the ‘p’ as he held Shiro’s hand with gentleness, turning it around slowly before pressing his own open hand over the other’s.  “Look, I might have long fingers but your hand is definitely bigger than mine—I bet you can hold lots of stuff without dropping anything!”

   “Lance,” Shiro laughed even when he could feel the tips of his ears burning up, “lower your voice…”

   “Oops, sorry,” grinning still, he didn’t pull away immediately.  Instead, Lance slid his hand downwards in a slow motion, the tips of his fingers tracing the pattern of lines on Shiro’s palm.  “You know, my grandma used to say that these—these lines here, see them?,” lifting his gaze to meet Shiro’s for a moment, he began brushing his index finger over the lines he was referring to.  “My grandma used to say that, well, since they form some kind of… ‘ _em_ ’, they, uh, are an indicator that we are all mortals—as in, destined to die? Kind of a grim reminder if you ask me, and—”

   “It’s actually kind of interesting,” Shiro said, his own eyes lost in Lance’s face for a moment before he looked at their hands once more, appreciating the contrast of their skin tones when together, “definitely more interesting than these math problems I have to solve for next class.”

   Lance snorted, the bridge of his nose scrunching up a little as he did.

   “Tell me about it.”

 

 —

 

   His window is closed.

   It’s a stupid wish he has—to come back from class and find it inexplicably open.  At least that way he could feel closer to Lance somehow.  At least that way he’d have something new to wait for.

   Days spent in uncertainty slowly chip away his already dismal instinct of self-preservation.  Matt looks at him with worry, even when he says nothing, and Shiro is glad for that.  Talking… talking won’t make the coiling feelings go away.

   After Keith had met that man, Coran, things in the investigation had definitely sped up for a couple of days until they inevitably settled down once more, and now Shiro itched with the need to find more clues, more information, anything, literally anything that would help them in their search for their friend.  But Shiro isn’t an idiot.  He knows things aren’t looking good.  He knows that everything is a bigger mess than they thought at first.

   He stands in the middle of the room for long minutes, gaze lost somewhere outside the window, on the movement of people, on the trees, on the sky.  Lance is out there and there’s the chance of never getting him back.  Shiro doesn’t want to think of that.

   Desperation seizes his chest and squeezes his lungs.  His vision turns blurry, steaming rage makes his eyes burn.  Matt squawks from where he’s sitting next to his desk when he turns around to look at him, and Shiro hears him stand up and hurry to his side.  He makes no move, mostly because he can’t.  It’s like his whole body turned to stone within one second and the next.

   “Shiro, hey, Shiro,” Matt sounds scared, worried and frantic all at the same time, and the sound makes it harder to breathe, “Shiro, fuck, look at me—hey, hey, Shiro, come on, Shiro—”

 

   Everything inside him crumbles, and he lets himself sob.

 

 

°

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Shiro just can't have a break. His heart is breaking! 
> 
> I hope you guys liked this chapter! I have no set schedule for the next update, but if you want to come talk to me about this story or literally anything else, you can find me both on [tumblr](http://wajjs.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/otabaek)!!


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one can believe what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back by unpopular demand once again :-D

 

 

**4**

 

 

   Four years ago:

   No one can believe what happened.  The son of an important member of the community disappearing during the night from the apparent safety of his bedroom.  The different buildings of the college have no place left that hadn’t been searched through in the haste of finding him.

   All they know from the declarations of his friends is that someone, possibly the culprit (or one of the culprits, nobody knows), had consistently opened his bedroom window in quick succession days before the disappearance.

   His name is Lotor.  

   They still haven’t found him.

 

   Three years ago:

   It’s the nightmare all over again.  A man is left in grief, a grief like no one ever knew, after the disappearance of the last living member of his entire family.  His niece, his good niece, model student and beloved by classmates and professors alike, vanishing in the still of the night, leaving nothing but a thrown phone behind.

   At first no one is quite sure about what happened.  The college is thoroughly combed, each nook and cranny searched through, trying to find at the very least a clue.  Nothing comes to surface.

   The case is about to hit a wall when the uncle, the lost, grieving uncle remembers a detail that charges the air around the community with electricity and unrest.  Someone, possibly the culprit, had systematically opened her bedroom window in quick succession four times before the disappearance.

   Her name is Allura.

   Her uncle is still looking for her.

 

   Now:

   The police is in a frenzy, the resurgence of the old modus operandi of two cold cases leaving everyone on edge.  The media eats up the news and has a feast over it.  Everyone everywhere is asking constantly: how could this happen, why did this happen, why now, why again, how come no one knows anything, why, what, how, where, when—

   The feeling of unrest is back full force.  In the same community three promising students have gone missing within five years and no one’s ever been found.  It makes everyone second guess each interaction, be suspicious of neighbours, of authorities, of everybody.  Even the friends and families of the missing students.

   Fingers point at Shiro: he was the first at the scene, did he compromise it in any way?  Why did he wait so long before going to check if everything was alright?  There are no security recordings of the estimative time when the kidnapping happened and the hours after that, he could’ve done it, he could’ve—

   Fingers point at Coran, Allura’s uncle: why did he withhold the information for so long, back when his niece disappeared and now?  Why didn’t he contact the police immediately?  Why did he approach one of the latest missing student’s friends?  Why why why why—

   Fingers point at Lotor’s father, Zarkon: why didn’t he show more interest in the case of his missing son and the ones that came after?  Everyone knew his relationship with Lotor was rocky at best and that they argued most of the time, over every little thing.  Everyone knew sometimes those fights turned for the worse and Lotor had to often seek shelter at his friends’ houses.  He could’ve done it, gotten rid of his son, just like he had locked up his wife one night in a mental hospital and no one knew exactly why.  He has the money, the connection, the power, he could’ve—

 

   No one points at Sendak, police captain in charge of the precinct that is currently holding jurisdiction over Lance’s case, just like they did with Allura’s and Lotor’s.

   No one points fingers at the detectives or the cops.

   The suspicion is there.  But no one is truly foolish enough to cross them.

 

   Lance’s parents cry: _where is our son?_

   Where is our son, where is our son, what happened to him, when will you find him?

   Sendak just smiles condescendingly and says: we are doing everything in our power to find your son.

   Lance’s parents look at him and wonder: are you?  

 

    _Are you?_

 

 

°

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dun dun


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt is livid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you thought i forgot about this story? nooooope, i did not :-)))))

 

 

**5**

 

 

   It’s maybe all because of her morbid mind, how her thoughts always jump to think the worse about anything and anyone first, only to reconsider later.  Except that this time there is no reconsideration, and Pidge is sure she’s breaking one too many laws in her personal quest to discover what actually happened that night.  And while she  _ could _ go about it the old way, talking to people, following hypothetical physical clues, that’s not something she’ll excel at and she can’t risk mistakes that will lead to untimely failure.

 That’s mainly why she’s sitting in her dorm room with only her bed lamp on, sitting against the headboard and with her laptop on her lap as she combs through sites that make her want to gouge out her eyes: some gagged up, some blindfolded, some starved, some, fuck, she’s never going to forget this, is she?  And she goes to site after site, always checking her security coding (painstakingly made with the immense help of her brother) to make sure no one’s piggybacking her, no one’s alerted of her presence; to make sure there’s no chance someone will get close to noticing her presence without her noticing first.

   And she goes to site after site, guts churning, stomach in knots, knowing that the stuff she’s seeing will haunt her for years to come.  And she thinks of what Hunk said the other day, Hunk, who used to be sunshine and who used to be safety and good dreams, Hunk, who now looks like the world ate him up and spit him out after chewing away his hopes, who now looks like he’s constantly haunted, like he’s constantly sick; she thinks of what Hunk said:

_ Enough.   _ Enough . _ I lost a friend.  I don’t want to lose the ones I have left now, too. _

   And perhaps she shouldn’t be doing this.  Perhaps she should stop. But then she keeps clicking and suddenly her heart seizes because—because those shoes, she recognizes those shoes in the far right corner of a grainy picture, and the shoes are the only thing she recognizes, even though they are somewhat blurry — the picture was taken somewhere outside, clearly, judging from all the dirt and the mudy puddles and the fallen leaves;

   it had rained two days ago,

                                                                  it had rained up a storm,

  and

the picture is from two days ago.

 

   And Pidge’s on her feet in a second, still holding her laptop in her hands, barely managing to avoid tripping over the charging cable connected to keep the device running, and Shay startles awake because of all the noise she’s making but this is, this is…  _ this is their first real lead _ and she needs to take this to the station immediately and—

   And then her computer turns off.

 

—

 

   Matt is livid.  Oh, is he livid.

   “What the fuck were you thinking?!” he shouts and panics, and Pidge doesn’t look away or try to retaliate, because she knows she fucked up, “ _ What the fuck were you— _ ”

   Pidge thinks this anger is mostly because the site is now nonexistent and thus their only clue has gone up in smoke.  She notices that the detective, Haxus, is staring at her intently, with an intensity that makes her skin prickle, and she thinks it’s because of that, as well.

   Pidge doesn’t realize that Matt is livid because her safety is in jeopardy now.

 

—

 

   She’s walking back to her dorm after her night class, and she’s just finished talking on the phone with Shiro, who’s been more frantic than before after Matt told him what she did.  It makes her upset, to be reminded constantly of her carelessness and stupidity because her friends suddenly treat her like she’s in danger, when she’s not.

_ I’m not the one in danger, _ she wants to yell,  _ Lance is! Lance is out there and he needs us and… _

 

   Cold wind picks up, and Pidge thinks that she should’ve grabbed a jacket before going to class.  Autumn is giving way to winter.

   A light flickers and she stops.  Everything’s too quiet, the shadows are too large.  The path is dirty with mud. Like Lance’s shoes.

   It’s the stillness, the lack of life around her, that makes her freeze where she is and consider her surroundings.  The sudden cry of a bird startles her, the silhouette sharp against the rapidly darkening dark sky.

   It’s the stillness that lets her hear the crack of a fallen branch as someone steps on it.

   It’s the stillness of the world around her when she turns to look over her shoulder and a tall person stops moving, facing her but with their features hidden by the shadows.

   It’s the flash of a second that lets her remember Shiro’s despair when Lance was so rudely taken from their lives, his despair deepening because he doesn’t know what to do with all that love he has that will never come to be; Hunk’s pain over his lost best friend and found-brother, his nightmares, his panicking and stress and desperation; Keith’s lost eyes, his spiking temper, his lashing out that ends in frustrated tears;

   Matt shouting in the police station, Matt hugging her, Matt who keeps worrying over her—

 

   It’s the stillness that’s broken when the tall figure starts moving again, running towards her.

   And in the broken stillness, Pidge runs, too.

 

°

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♪ run fast for your mother, run fast for your father ♪  
> ♫ run for your children, for your sisters and your brothers ♫


End file.
